


A Man Does What He Must

by shao_fu



Series: Text, Context and Sub-text [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shao_fu/pseuds/shao_fu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A British Intelligence Officer is found murdered while on holiday in Honolulu, the most recent in a string of murders of intelligence officers of different nationalities. An international crime syndicate is suspected and a joint investigation is proposed by the British government and the Governor of Hawaii, using their best people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place within the timeline of Season 1 of Hawaii Five-O and after The Great Game. Governor Jameson is still alive and Jenna is an unofficial member of the team. I am ignoring the season 2 developments regarding Jenna for the moment.
> 
> The title is from a quotation by Winston Churchill: “A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality.”
> 
> Many thanks to sharpiesgal for the beta and all the support while I laboured over this fic. She not only corrected my Americanisms but she kindly provided me with the idea and most of the text for Danny’s rant in reply to Sherlock, much improving on the original!

“Absolutely not,” Sherlock snapped into his mobile and switched it off with a flourish as he entered the flat. John glanced up from reading the newspaper, took one look at Sherlock’s face and said,

“Mycroft?”

“Excellent deduction, how did you guess?” John ignored the sarcasm but answered the question,

“You get a certain look when you are being deliberately disobliging. I only ever see it when Mycroft calls you or, occasionally, when I ask you to do something necessary that you don’t want to do and so choose to describe it as dull.” Sherlock sighed and flung himself full length on the settee, still wearing his coat and scarf. Again, John ignored the little tantrum and got up to make tea.

“Doing one’s duty is usually dull,” Sherlock offered. “Doing it for Queen and country and brother Mycroft is even more boring.”

“National security again?” John poured boiling water into the teapot and left the tea to brew while he wandered back to talk to Sherlock. “He doesn’t use that lightly, Sherlock, no matter what you think. Maybe you should reconsider . . .”

“Good God, no!” Sherlock said emphatically. “If you only knew!” He shuddered melodramatically.

“Well, I don’t know,” John said placidly, “and, since the idea seems to horrify you, nothing else need be said. Tea?”

“Thank you.” John wandered off again and came back with two mugs, placed one in front of Sherlock and sat down to resume his reading. A few minutes ticked by in silence and then Sherlock said,

“Oh well, if you must know, there seems to be some kind of international serial killer on the prowl and Mycroft wants me – us – to help the Americans.” John shrugged.

“We’ve done that before; what’s so repugnant about this case?” Sherlock sat up and picked up his tea.

“I’m not against assisting the Americans per se,” he said condescendingly. “After all, they need all the help they can get, but I cannot possibly go to some god-awful, sun-drenched, over-commercialised tourist trap and work with a ‘special task force’.” John could hear the air quotes although Sherlock did not deign to make the gesture; he merely sipped his tea and looked sulky. John smiled behind his newspaper, wondering if it was the location or the idea of the task force which offended Sherlock most.

“Miami?” he queried hopefully. It was March, chilly and very grey and wet at the end of a horrible winter; the idea of a trip to somewhere sunny rather appealed to him.

“Worse,” Sherlock answered.

“Am I supposed to guess?” 

“If you like,” Sherlock answered at his most ungracious. “It doesn’t matter; I am not going.”

“Sun-drenched, over-commercialised tourist trap,” John murmured, reviewing Sherlock’s clues. “Not Miami, so California maybe or the Gulf?” Sherlock sniffed and John mulled over various places until he suddenly gasped.

“Not Hawai’i?” he asked, sounding far too eager to his own ears. “Sherlock, please tell me you did not turn down the chance of a trip to Hawai’i in the middle of March?”

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him.

“John, you sound positively effusive and, yes, rather disappointed. You don’t really want to go to Hawai’i, do you?” John gazed at him blankly, his eyes filled with visions of beaches, palm trees, surfers and cocktails with umbrellas in them.

“Oh, yes,” he breathed longingly and, when Sherlock made a rather rude noise, snapped back to reality. “But it’s entirely up to you and, since you seem quite adamant about not wishing to oblige Mycroft, there is nothing more to say, is there?” Sherlock was silent for a long time. John cleared away the mugs, washed them up and sat down to watch television. He flicked aimlessly through the channels, settling for a dull political discussion programme as background noise and let his imagination run riot. It was difficult for him to imagine Sherlock on a beach or even dressed casually for a few days in the sun, (Sherlock in shorts and a T-shirt? His mind boggled!), but sunshine and warm weather, long tropical nights, a luxurious hotel room, all expenses paid – John could very easily see himself in such a situation. He sighed without realising he had done so and Sherlock peered at him. After a pause, he said,

“Of course, if it should be an interesting case, you know, something for me to get my teeth into, then, of course, it would be worth my consideration.” Nothing more was said by either of them but Sherlock allowed Mycroft to send him more details of the case, Moriarty’s name came up and, a week later, they were flying first class to Honolulu, Mycroft smoothing the way as always.

******

 

Things had been pretty quiet at 5-0 for a while. Kono and Steve had actually managed to catch some waves and, to his intense delight, Danny had been able to do Gracie’s school run three days in a row. Every scrap of paperwork was done and filed, and even Chin seemed relaxed. Steve was planning a barbecue at his house on Saturday night, to which they were all invited including Jenna Kaye, who was considered part of the team now, however unofficial. There would be steak and beer and maybe a bonfire. Steve had even invited Rachel and Stan so that Gracie could be there for a little while; Danny was hoping they wouldn’t stay too long. He was also fervently hoping they wouldn’t catch a case because he had reached the tipping point and now he was only waiting for the opportunity to speak his mind to Steve. Saturday evening offered a golden opportunity, but somehow, despite trying not to think it, he knew his was a forlorn hope.

~

Wednesday afternoon, Danny dropped Gracie home from school and headed back to HQ, his mind running over the speech he had prepared for Saturday. It had two endings and, while he was word perfect in one, the other needed work in case Steve reacted differently to how Danny anticipated. He only had one chance, he thought, and he wasn’t going to mess it up. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he sought the appropriate bon mot that would convince Steve he was serious. As he turned into the parking lot, his phone rang and McGarrett’s picture appeared on the screen.

“Hey, Steve,” he answered.

“Where are you? What’s your ETA?”

“What, no hello? No how are you?” Danny could almost hear Steve’s teeth grinding.

“Get back here as fast as you can,” he snapped and hung up. Oh, oh, Danny thought as he made his way to the office. There was a crowd of people there, standing around the computer table: the rest of the team including Jenna, the Governor, a couple of Army officers, and two strangers. Danny glanced at them briefly, but introductions were not forthcoming. Steve acknowledged his presence with a quick nod and went back to his conversation with the Governor. Danny sidled around next to Chin and murmured,

“Want to fill me in?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Chin muttered back. “Kono and I just got here a couple of minutes ago. I think – wait, the Governor’s leaving.” 

Steve walked her out, accompanied by the two officers and Danny stared at their backs. The uniforms were vaguely familiar but still foreign, definitely European, British maybe? Steve turned back and started snapping orders.

“Kono, Jenna, I want everything you can find on James Moriarty. Chin, see if Kamekona has heard anything. Danny. . .,” Danny held up a hand.

“Aren’t we forgetting something, Steven?” he asked, his gaze travelling to the two strangers. One was a little taller than him, fairly ordinary looking, pleasant-faced, pretty non-descript actually, but the other: the other was tall, as tall as Steve but looked taller because he was so lean and the black suit made him seem even more so. He had a pale, arresting face and startlingly odd-coloured eyes, cold and intense. Steve made his constipated face at the interruption and waved a hand between them.

“This is Dr. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes; they’ve just arrived from the UK - Detective Danny Williams, the other member of my team.” The smaller man smiled in a friendly fashion and stuck out his hand. Danny shook it automatically and turned to his companion, expecting the same greeting. Holmes completely ignored him.

“Pleased to meet you, too,” Danny muttered, scowling at the stranger, who remained oblivious. 

“Four murders,” Holmes said to no-one in particular, “London, Mumbai, Shanghai and now Honolulu. Why these places?”

“We have a murder?” Danny asked, looking at Steve and then Chin.

“Do try and keep up,” Holmes snapped. “Four murders on four continents, apparently unconnected and yet . . .” His voice trailed off and he bent his head, steepling his fingers against his chin as he stared at the computer table.

“Steven, a word,” Danny said and hustled Steve into his office.

“We don’t have time for . . .”, Steve started and Danny shook a warning finger at him.

“We have time for you to tell me what is going on. Who has been murdered, why is the Governor involved and who is the creepy Brit?”

“You think he’s creepy?” Steve asked with his usual frustrating knack of fastening on to the least important of Danny’s questions.

“You don’t?” Steve shrugged.

“No, I don’t. Okay, you missed the Governor’s visit, so I’ll . . .” Danny held up a hand yet again. 

“Get everyone in here,” he said, “ ‘cos somehow I think you sent Kono and Jenna off to research a suspected serial killer without actually clueing them in either.” Steve opened his mouth, saw Danny’s expression, and snapped it shut with a pronounced click. He opened his office door and shouted for the others, glancing at Holmes and Watson as he waited for his team. Holmes hadn’t moved a muscle but Watson glanced up and gave a brief wave, as if he had guessed what was going on. Then he went back to waiting passively until Holmes decided to say or do anything.

“Now that,” Steve said to Danny with a smirk, “is an ideal partner.”

“How d’ya mean?”

“Look at him, supportive, patient and, best of all . . .”

“Are you saying I’m not supportive?” Danny interrupted, his voice rising. “Don’t I always have your back? Or are you accusing me of impatience? Because let me tell you, partner, I have endless patience. My patience knows no bounds although it is sorely tried by . . .”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Steve interrupted in turn. Danny flung up his hands.

“You’re right, I didn’t let you finish. Excuse me; please finish your exposition on the ideal partner.” Danny leaned against Steve’s desk and folded his arms, schooling his features into an exaggerated look of patience. Steve smirked, earning himself an eye roll.

“I was going to say, supportive, patient and, best of all, quiet.” It was Danny’s turn to snap his mouth shut. He could feel his ears reddening as he struggled not to yell at Steve. Fortunately, Chin and Kono arrived and Steve turned back to his desk.

“Jenna’s tracking down the info on Moriarty,” Kono reported. “Since she was here when the Governor arrived, I guess she already knows what this is all about.” Danny gave Steve a triumphant, ‘see, I told you so’ look, which Steve pointedly ignored.

“Okay, listen up,” he said. “The body of a British army captain was discovered in his hotel room early this morning. He was on leave, not here in any official capacity, and HPD took the case. They were investigating an apparent armed robbery gone bad until they ran the captain’s ID to find his next of kin. All sorts of flags were raised by the search and, next thing, Governor Jameson is talking to someone from the British government. Seems someone has been targeting Intelligence operatives in various countries and they are convinced it’s the work of an international crime syndicate headed by a James Moriarty. They don’t have enough evidence to pin the murders on him but he’s their prime suspect. The Governor wants us to give this case top priority.”

“And who are those two?” Danny asked, nodding through the window at Holmes and Watson.

“Apparently Holmes is an expert on Moriarty and the British government persuaded him to come here to assist.”

“They had to persuade him? Doesn’t he work for them?”

“Nope, he’s an independent consultant of some sort and, from what I was told, we’re damned lucky he agreed to come here.” Danny snorted derisively.

“What about the other guy? Dr. Watson?” he asked.

“He’s Holmes’ assistant, colleague, whatever you want to call him. He’s a medical doctor, ex-military I understand; seems he has, and I quote, a ‘calming’ influence on Mr. Holmes.” Danny curled his lip.

“Why does Holmes need a calming influence? He’s almost comatose; he hasn’t moved an inch since I got here.” The four of them all turned to stare somewhat expectantly at Holmes through the window. After a minute or so, Kono said,

“You’re right, Danny, he hasn’t so much as blinked. What is he doing?”

“Let’s go ask,” Danny said and they all trooped back to the table. Holmes ignored them and Watson shot them a warning look, shaking his head fractionally when Steve opened his mouth. Steve subsided but Danny was made of sterner stuff.

“So, Mr. Holmes,” he said, his voice sounding abnormally loud, “care to share?” Watson winced but Holmes did not react. It was absurd, Danny thought, the man was a drama queen and probably a charlatan, but he folded his arms and stared at the computer table along with everyone else. A map of the world was displayed, the four cities Holmes had mentioned highlighted for ease of reference, but there was nothing inspiring or worthy of such intent study that any of 5-0 could discern. Danny was just considering sneaking off for a cup of coffee when Holmes suddenly started speaking, the words spilling out of his mouth in such a torrent that everyone except Watson had difficulty following him.

“Mumbai: October 2009, Ren Tian Ri, obviously an alias by the way, is found stabbed to death in an alley in Mumbai. The Indian police went with the obvious armed robbery gone awry scenario, the same one that the Honolulu police department also tried to follow. Why do policemen have such pedestrian minds? He was supposedly a minor figure at the embassy but was a hundred per cent Guóānbù. Why do covert operatives always go the route of the minor embassy official, John? So unimaginative! March 2010, Alex James, another minor embassy official, American this time, is struck by a car whilst walking around Piccadilly. Hit and run, DOA, CIA, naturally. July 2010 and Mahavir Kumar – God, what is it with the aliases! – succumbs to a heart attack while entertaining a prostitute in Shanghai. Hushed up because of the circumstances; probably staged to begin with but definitely not natural causes. He was RAW, rumoured to be ascending the ladder rather quickly, being groomed for a top slot, apparently. And now, Captain Harry Greenstreet, identified as a JARIC officer – all these acronyms, John, it’s so wearying - and obviously not killed in a mugging in his hotel room. Moriarty is trying to set the major powers at each others’ throats. China and India, Britain and America. It’s clever, not that subtle, but it’s only the tip of the iceberg. These men were all national intelligence operatives for their respective nations, all pretty small fry, actually, except for the Indian. Two were field ops, the other two analysts, but it’s not so much what they did but the fact that they were part of the Intelligence community. Moriarty is succumbing to hubris, trying to prove he is more intelligent than they are. Of course, he is but he does so need the applause.”

Danny noticed Watson’s lips twitch, as if he was suppressing a smile, and suppressed one of his own. So Steve’s ideal partner actually thought that his partner was full of it, too, did he? Nice to know. Holmes’ voice called his name and he had to rapidly regroup his thoughts. One moment of inattention and that was when wonder boy had to ask him a question.

“I’m sorry, what?” he said. Holmes sneered; he actually sneered at him like some arch villain in a bad Victorian melodrama.

“Do pay attention,” he said to Danny. “I really have much better things to do than repeat myself. I asked if you would insert the flash drive into the outlet, since you are standing next to it, but Agent Kaye has already performed that simple task.” Danny flushed angrily and glanced at Jenna, who had joined them without him noticing. “These are my notes – “ Watson coughed delicately – “our notes,” Holmes corrected smoothly, “on Moriarty. Facts, figures and my deductions. Please study them diligently as they will be of great benefit to you in this case. If agent Kaye finds anything new, I would be very interested.” His tone inferred he doubted Jenna would turn up anything he hadn’t already found.

“May I take copies for each of us, Mr. Holmes?” Jenna asked politely. Holmes smiled slightly, just a quirk of the lips, and Danny blinked at the difference. The severe expression disappeared and he looked almost human.

“Sherlock, please,” Holmes said. “I know how much you Americans like informality. By all means, copies are acceptable, but the contents of that flash drive should be considered top secret. Please treat them as such.” Jenna nodded and tapped a few keys, then murmured an excuse and went back to her desk. Sherlock glanced at John.

“What time is it?” he asked, suddenly sounding weary.

“It’s 5 p.m. local time, 4 a.m. in London. You need to get some sleep; you’ve been on the go for over 40 hours.”

“So have you, John.”

“Yes, but I slept on the plane. Come on, let’s find our hotel and grab a bite to eat and then get a few hours kip. You’ll be much fresher in the morning.” Sherlock turned to Steve.

“There are notes in the file on Moriarty’s known associates, aliases, that sort of thing. Perhaps you could start some local enquiries.” Chin brought up the file on the big screen and they all quickly scanned through it. One name leapt out at them: Wo Fat.

“I’ll drive you to your hotel,” Steve said, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Certainly not, we have a car waiting,” Sherlock said, following the direction of his eyes. “Who is Wo Fat?” John gripped his forearm, tugging him gently away.

“Tomorrow, Sherlock, first thing, I promise but you are jet lagged and you need to rest. Commander McGarrett can start local enquiries without you.”

“Call me Steve,” Steve said, “you know how we like informality. We’ll put the word out and meet you here tomorrow, 8 a.m., okay?” John grinned at him, nodded and gently led Sherlock away, collecting their hand luggage as he went. Sherlock looked like he was sleepwalking, the manic energy completely drained away. Steve glanced around at his team, who were all watching the pair depart. Once they had gone, Jenna came back and took over the table again, bringing up two pages side by side: Sherlock’s website, The Science of Deduction, and John Watson’s blog.

“Here we go, boys and girls,” she said. “Read ‘em and weep!”

~

John ordered room service and persuaded Sherlock to eat a little, then left him to shower while he did the same. They both needed sleep but they decided to meet again in Sherlock’s room to discuss the case and try to adjust to local time. It was only 7 p.m. and John did not want Sherlock wide awake and anxious to proceed in the wee hours of the morning. This would not endear him to the 5-0 task force and John was already anxious about the working atmosphere. Agent Kaye seemed very pleasant, as did Officer Kelly, although John had not formed a definite opinion of either of them. Officer Kalakaua was a mystery as she had not spoken other than to say hello and Detective Williams was obviously antagonistic towards Sherlock. He would have to try and smooth some ruffled feathers tomorrow. Commander McGarrett seemed competent but remote. He reminded John a little of Sherlock, the way he focussed and with similar manic energy, but he gave an impression of a coiled spring, something explosive lurking beneath the surface, whereas Sherlock radiated calm detachment and hidden depths.

He shared his thoughts with Sherlock and listened in amazement as Sherlock related his deductions about the members of the team. He was used to the way Sherlock could sum up people with devastating accuracy but some of his comments had John wondering what would happen in the morning. He hoped he could prevent Sherlock from expounding his analysis; McGarrett, and Williams especially, would not be amused. By 8:30, John was dead on his feet and Sherlock in no better shape, so they called it a night. They had adjoining rooms and, after half an hour, John slipped back into Sherlock’s room to make sure he was not on his laptop or doing anything other than resting. He was pleased to find Sherlock was actually sleeping soundly, a rare occurrence when he was on a case. Gratefully, John retired and did not surface until six the next morning.

~

Back at 5-0 headquarters, the team had started enquiries, trying to discover if Moriarty, under any of his known aliases, had arrived in Honolulu recently. Jenna was working on finding as much information as possible on him but Sherlock’s notes were impressively comprehensive and she failed to discover anything new. Some of his deductions mystified her and she hoped to have a chance to ask him about them. The others also took some time to study the websites she had found on the two Brits. They all found John’s blog the more interesting reading, Sherlock’s website being informative but rather dry and hard going. Having read a few entries of the blog, Danny went into Steve’s office.

“Do you believe this stuff?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “Watson makes his partner out to be some kind of heroic genius. He plays down his own part in the case reports but you can tell he keeps saving wonder boy’s ass.”

“You’re going with ‘wonder boy’?” Steve asked, quirking an eyebrow. Danny just snorted. “It’s pretty impressive,” Steve continued, “and obviously Watson has only written the details that can go public. There must have been a lot more going on than he says. I would love to hear the rest of it.”

“Really? Do me a favour, Steve; please do not ask that pompous, arrogant s.o.b. about the rest; at least, not while I’m around to hear him telling us how great he is. I honestly don’t think I could control myself.”

“You don’t like him?” Steve sounded surprised.

“I don’t like him,” Danny confirmed. “Watson seems okay but God knows why he puts up with that, that . . .” Danny struggled to find an appropriate term to summarise just how much he didn’t like Sherlock Holmes but failed to come up with anything stronger than “arrogant bastard!”.

“You’d better work with John, then,” was all Steve said. “I’ll look after Sherlock.” Danny took a breath and began to explain to Steve why working with Sherlock was such a bad idea.

Meanwhile, Kono, Chin and Jenna had gathered in Chin’s office, also to discuss Holmes and Watson.

“He’s obviously quite brilliant,” Jenna said admiringly. “His methods are strange but he seems to come to the correct conclusions.”

“He certainly has a unique approach,” Chin agreed. He glanced towards Steve’s office. “Somehow, I don’t think Danny agrees.” Kono laughed.

“You got that right, brah,” she said. “I have a funny feeling we’ll be seeing fireworks in the morning.” She stretched and giggled when her stomach rumbled loudly.

“We should go eat,” Jenna said, laughing. “Why don’t we go to Sam’s?” 

“You two go ahead,” Chin said. “I’ll see if Steve and Danny want to join us. See you in ten.”

Jenna powered down her computer and she and Kono headed out while Chin wandered over and knocked on the door frame of Steve’s office. Danny was still in full rant mode, hands waving as he paced in small circles. Steve was leaning against his desk, looking bemused, and gratefully invited Chin inside.

“The girls have gone down to Sam’s,” he said, “and I’m heading that way myself. Are you going to come?” 

“Sure,” Steve said quickly, “I’m starving.” Danny stopped in mid-rant as Steve headed for the door.

“We are not done,” he said, but followed Steve and Chin out of the office. 

Steve drove Danny’s car as usual while Chin took his bike. Sam’s Kitchen was five minutes drive away and they soon joined Kono and Jenna. Danny hadn’t said anything during the drive but, once they were settled and had ordered their food, he addressed the team in general.

“Okay,” he said, “am I the only one here who thinks Sherlock Holmes is an arrogant, bad-mannered, drama queen? Please, someone, anyone, if I’m wrong, tell me how.”

Steve opened his mouth but Danny forestalled him.

“I should have said, anyone other than Steve, because he already thinks the sun shines out of his ass!”

“I do not,” Steve protested. “I merely said that you seemed to rub him the wrong way. He was perfectly okay with the rest of us.”

“He does come across as arrogant,” Chin said, “but I think it’s just that his mind works so fast that nobody can keep up. You have to admit he’s brilliant.”

“Oh, he’s smart, alright,” Danny admitted. “The jury is out on brilliant. All he does is throw out ideas which are way out there and expect us to accept he’s right. He has a lot of theories but where’s the evidence, huh? He’s got us all convinced of some huge international conspiracy to start world war three, based on the one known fact that four murders were committed all over the world and they were all intelligence officers. Now, I admit that’s too much of a coincidence but we still haven’t proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are linked. He, meanwhile - what’s his term – ‘deduces’ from that one fact that there is an evil plot to take over the world. Talk about delusions of grandeur!” Chin blinked in the face of this vitriol.

“You really don’t like him, do you?” he commented. “His methods might be a little out there but his track record is impressive. So what if he is arrogant; if he can help us catch Wo Fat in the process of tracking down this Moriarty guy, I say let him.”

Their food arrived at that moment and there was a period of silence while they all ate enough to assuage their hunger. Jenna finally took up the subject again.

“I’ve had more time than the rest of you to read Dr. Watson’s blog,” she said. “Right at the beginning, when he had just met Sherlock, they were working a crime scene and the forensics guy called Sherlock a psychopath. Sherlock immediately corrected him and said he was a high-functioning sociopath and I think it’s partially true, although Sherlock’s a little hard on himself. The way John writes it, it’s rather amusing; you should check it out. Sherlock isn’t interested in social interaction; all he wants to do is solve the mystery. As John writes it, he’s all about the work. I’m not convinced he’s a true sociopath, though.”

“What’s the difference?” Kono asked. “Obviously, there is one or there wouldn’t be two terms but I’m a bit hazy.”

“Actually, that’s a source of some debate,” Jenna replied. “I did a little bit of research because, like you, I wasn’t quite sure. Some psychologists think the terms interchangeable, others differentiate between the two but the terms are used to describe people with antisocial personality traits. They have a lot of similar traits like not caring about the consequences of their actions; ignoring other people’s rights, prepared to do anything to get their own way, etc., but the psychopath seems to be regarded as far more dangerous. I think my absolute favourite answer is that a psychopath thinks 2+2=5 rather than 2+2=4 and a sociopath knows 2+2=4, but hates to admit it.” That brought a general chuckle but Danny was like a dog with a bone.

“Well, this is just great, isn’t it? We have a self-professed sociopath helping us track down a psychopathic serial killer – did you see what I just did there, huh? - and maybe, potentially, if the sociopath is to be believed, we also have an international conspiracy of gigantic proportions, which we are now busting our chops to break. It seems to me that Sherlock Holmes isn’t the only nut job round here!”

“The information he provided is excellent, though,” Kono chimed in. “I don’t know what access he has to resources but it’s impressive, to say the least.” Danny threw up his hands.

“Oh God, you are all fully paid up members of the Sherlock Holmes fan club. I might as well give up.”

“Okay,” Steve said, bringing the debate to a close before Danny got back into full flow again. “Let’s finish up here and get back to work. Hopefully, there’ll be a few answers when we get back. And we all need to get some sleep.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The teams start the investigation in earnest.

Part Two

By 6:30, John had showered and ordered breakfast from room service. The sun was just beginning to rise and he went out onto the balcony to watch the sky lighten. Their rooms faced south west and he was anticipating seeing some spectacular sunsets but it was a pleasure to watch the night sky retreat and the water begin to sparkle in the morning light. Sherlock appeared on his balcony in his pyjamas, looking sleep rumpled but wide awake. John wished him good morning and told him breakfast was on its way, so Sherlock joined him and they watched the day begin together. Soon there was a knock at the door and breakfast was delivered, the waiter setting it up for them out on the balcony. Sherlock investigated the various dishes and sniffed appreciatively at the coffee.

“The Americans have never mastered the art of making tea,” he said, “but they do make excellent coffee.”

“Hawai’ian coffee is supposed to be amongst the best in the world,” John replied, “so I thought you would enjoy a cup. You will eat something, though, won’t you?” He sounded so anxious that Sherlock sat down and nibbled some toast just to oblige him. “If we wrap this case up quickly,” John said, “I was thinking we might wangle a couple of days down time. I’ve done some research and we have to visit Liliha’s Bakery at least once, just so we can try the cocoa puffs.”

“John, you are forever lecturing me about eating healthily,” Sherlock said with a glint of humour in his eye. “Please explain to me the nutritional value of cocoa puffs.”

“Absolutely none,” John said with a laugh, “but they are legendary and I am determined to try them!”

“Ah well, if you are determined, then there is no more to be said. McGarrett said we were to meet at eight. Shall we take a walk on the beach before it is swarming with tourists? We have time.” John blinked in surprise.

“That would be – that’s a great idea,” he said. 

“Then, if you’ll excuse me, I must shower and shave. What does one wear to walk on the beach, I wonder?” He wandered off as he said that, not expecting an answer and John remained on the balcony, a sense of delicious anticipation making him grin quite stupidly, he was sure. He could not remember a time, ever, since he had met Sherlock when he had suggested something as simple and ordinary as a walk together. They were always either rushing around on a case or hanging about the flat. Maybe Hawai’i was having a mellowing affect on him. Whatever the reason, John felt thrilled at the thought of Sherlock asking him to go for a walk. It was faintly ridiculous but John didn’t care. It was even more ridiculous that he couldn’t wait to see what Sherlock would wear. Certainly not his winter weight black suit he had been wearing yesterday and again, he could not imagine Sherlock dressed casually in shorts and T-shirt, even if they were tailored to fit. Sherlock was very particular about his clothes and his sartorial sense was finely tuned.

John was dressed in a pair of lightweight, stone-coloured pants and a blue polo shirt and guessed Sherlock would choose something similar. He was therefore rather taken aback when Sherlock finally appeared. He was dressed in an off-white linen suit, tailored to perfection, and a midnight blue cotton button down, open at the throat. John had to make a supreme effort to control himself and not jump his bones there and then.

“Holy shit!,” he said uncautiously.

“What?” Sherlock looked down at himself. “Is my attire inappropriate? I can change.”

“Don’t you bloody dare,” John said. “You look perfect – um, I mean, perfectly fine, it’s quite appropriate. Shall we go?”

They made their way down to the lobby and wandered out past the pool to the beach. There was a paved walkway and Sherlock elected to walk on this rather than on the sand. John was too happy to be with him to cry foul and they strolled along, looking around as the place stirred into life. John soon became aware of the fact that the early birds among the tourists were staring at Sherlock’s striking figure, trying to identify him. As the sun brightened, they both donned sunglasses and this seemed to intrigue people even more. After fifteen minutes, Sherlock sighed and turned back.

“I fear we are attracting unwanted attention,” he said, “although I fail to understand why.” John could have enlightened him but preferred to keep his own counsel. He bit his lip to stop himself chuckling when he pictured the faces of the 5-O team when Sherlock walked in. Detective Williams might just have an aneurysm, although he favoured a shirt and tie himself. John could only guess at the ribbing he had taken when he first arrived in Hawai’i. Sherlock had deduced that Danny was from New Jersey, recently divorced and, although he could not know for sure, surmised that he had followed his ex to Hawai’i, probably because they shared offspring. His other comments about Danny were more intimate and John hadn’t dared to ask how Sherlock had reached those particular conclusions. Sherlock wouldn’t hesitate to tell him and John preferred to be able to work with the team with a clear conscience. Once Sherlock pointed out certain aspects of behaviour, John could not fail to look for them and he didn’t need the distraction. He was going to need all his wits about him as it was to keep up with Sherlock and run interference between him and Danny. Back at the hotel, John picked up his laptop and they set out for the 5-O headquarters.

~

Steve sent the rest of the team home at ten, telling them to get some sleep and be ready for a full day in the morning. He stayed until midnight, having put a call through to Catherine and waited until she called back. With the team researching some of the names in Sherlock’s notes, Steve became more and more convinced that there was something to his theory about Moriarty’s organisation trying to create problems between the major powers. There were signs of manipulation in the currency markets, which would not help relations between China and India, both with ambitions to become economic super powers, and which was already having a devastating effect in Europe. There had been a spike in the drug trade, too, with massive shipments funnelled through China and distributed world wide, creating more strain on fragile economies. Wo Fat was obviously involved in this aspect of Moriarty’s criminal activities and Steve was more determined than ever to track him down. There were so many threads to follow, Steve wondered if they would need more help. The enormity of the task was enough to daunt anyone. After talking to Catherine, who promised to track a certain container ship on its way from Xiamen, Steve followed his own advice and went home to get some sleep. 

He was back in the office by seven and was not surprised when Danny arrived shortly afterwards. He discussed his discoveries with him and Danny countered with information from Kamekona about certain strangers in town who hadn’t come through Immigration and Customs. Chin arrived within a few minutes, followed by Jenna and Kono, who had brought malasadas to go with their morning coffee. There was so much to follow up on that they each took a different lead and set to work The hour passed quickly and Steve was suddenly crudely reminded that Sherlock and John were due at eight. Danny had gone to get more coffee and, glancing out into the car park, he happened to see them arrive.

“Oh my god!” he said loudly, making everyone look up. “It’s John fucking Travolta!” Intrigued, they all joined him to peer out the window but only caught a glimpse of Sherlock and John heading into the building. There was an embarrassing silence when they came into the office. Jenna and Kono were both staring unashamedly at Sherlock and Chin was trying hard not to laugh. The Travolta crack had gone over Steve’s head and he went over to greet the visitors. As usual, Sherlock was not one for social niceties and he and Steve adjourned to Steve’s office to review the information and discuss Steve’s theories. Kono offered John a cup of coffee and showed him a desk where he could set up his laptop but her eyes were constantly drawn back to Sherlock. John couldn’t blame her; he had difficulty preventing himself from doing the same. Jenna transferred the information they had correlated to John and he was studying it intently when Steve and Sherlock emerged and Steve called them together.

“We’re going to split up to follow our various lines of enquiry,” Steve announced. “Jenna and Kono, I want you to follow the money. At least part of that last drug shipment from China came through here and there must be a trace of abnormal financial activity. We’re talking millions of dollars being transferred; that’s not going to be easy to hide. Chin, I need you to talk to your contacts; find out what’s going on. If there’s any chatter, we need to know. Danny, I want you to follow up on the information from Kamekona. Perhaps John would be willing to help?” Steve glanced at John, who showed evident surprise and looked sideways at Sherlock to check they weren’t going to work together. There was no reaction, so John agreed to go with Danny. “Sherlock and I are going to work on the connection between Moriarty and Wo Fat,” Steve continued. “We all need to stay in the loop so, if any of you discover something of interest, make sure to share. Something big is brewing and we need to get on top of this now before it gets out of hand.”

Kono and Jenna returned to their computers and Chin headed out. John hovered, waiting uncertainly for Danny while Steve and Sherlock turned to go back to Steve’s office. Danny was standing with his arms folded and didn’t move. Steve eventually became aware of this and cocked an eyebrow at Danny.

“Problem?” he asked. Danny laughed humourlessly.

“Problem, he asks! Yes, Steven, there’s a problem. I’m your partner, the one you trust to have your back when there’s trouble and, believe me, there is always trouble! You, Steven, are a trouble magnet and I don’t intend to let you go off to investigate Wo Fat with this – this overdressed British dork who probably doesn’t know one end of a gun from the other!” John stifled a protest but Danny ignored the interruption, his voice rising as he hit his stride. “Wo Fat is a stone cold killer and there is no way, absolutely NO WAY I am letting you go near him with only Bonnie Prince Charlie here as back up! Of all the stupid ideas you have had, and there have been too many to count, this takes the prize. If you insist on listening to this whack job, at least stick him in an office where he can do no harm.”

“Oh, Christ!” John muttered and tried to catch Sherlock’s eye, to no avail. Sherlock drew himself up to his full height and looked down his nose at Danny in a way that was sure to infuriate him even more.

“Detective Williams,” he said silkily, “whilst your concern for you partner’s safety may seem admirable, why don’t we address the real problem? Your feelings of inferiority and inadequacy are understandable but I am not responsible for either. I suggest you would be better served by directing all that pent up anger at the root cause, namely your disordered personality. Perhaps you should follow the popular American custom of finding a therapist to assist you in resolving your frustration over your lack of stature, your crippling guilt over your divorce and your suppressed homosexual tendencies.” Steve gasped and Danny made a strange, keening sound, as if mortally wounded. John dropped his head in his hands and tried not to watch. “As for your inference that I am unable to hold my own in a fight or the suggestion that I am unacquainted with firearms, that is an assumption as ill-informed as it is arrogant. I am actually a far better choice to accompany Commander McGarrett as I do not have any emotional attachment to him and am, therefore, far better equipped to make sound decisions should danger threaten.”

There was an appalled silence. Sherlock turned away and addressed Steve.

“Shall we get on?” he asked and walked back to Steve’s office. Steve was staring at Danny, his mouth half-open in shock. Danny was trembling, whether from anger or some other overwhelming emotion was hard to tell. He pushed roughly past Steve and followed Sherlock into the office, pushing the door closed. He did not notice that it did not shut properly.

"Hey, just so you know, Mr. Wannabe Detective, I came to terms with my short stature years ago; my ex left me because I refused to stop being a cop; and, if anyone has unresolved feelings for their partner, then it would be you!" He delivered this potential coup de grace with a satisfied smirk, but Sherlock was rarely bested in a verbal confrontation. His voice was icy as he responded.

“You really don’t have to explain yourself any further to me, Detective, nor do I feel any compulsion to explain my relationship with John to you or anyone else. If you were half the man he is, you would have progressed from your pathetic schoolboy crush on Commander McGarrett and declared yourself. The fact that you have not merely indicates to me that you do not reciprocate the trust you demand from the object of your affection. You declare that he trusts you to have his back but you don’t trust him, do you? You are not prepared to take the required risk as you already think you know what the outcome will be. In essence, you are a coward.”

Danny turned and stormed out of the room, again brushing past Steve.

“Danny,” Steve said anxiously, moving towards him. Danny held up a hand to ward him off.

“Just don’t,” he said hoarsely. Steve stood looking at him helplessly for a moment and then went to join Sherlock.

“Bastard,” Danny hissed and, walking over to the wall, punched it viciously. John winced but did not interfere. “Bastard, bastard, bastard,” Danny chanted, each time punching the wall. As he drew his fist back again, John finally said sharply,

“Stop that!” He got to his feet and grabbed Danny’s arm. “I’d better take a look at that,” he said quietly, “you may have broken something.”

Danny allowed him to examine his hand, knowing it was just bruised. He hadn’t broken any bones but something inside him had shattered, leaving him completely devastated. John finally said,

“Well, you’re lucky, no bones broken but you’ve grazed your knuckles and your hand is badly bruised. It’s going to swell if we don’t put ice on it. Do you have a refrigerator? Ice? Have you a first aid kit? Where’s the kitchen? Come on, Danny, show me, please.” 

Danny sleepwalked to the kitchen and sat silently while John cleaned up the grazes, found antiseptic and Band-aids and then made a makeshift icepack out of ice cubes and a plastic bag, which he wrapped gently around Danny’s hand. He found some aspirin and made Danny take two. Then he sat down opposite and waited calmly for Danny to recover his equilibrium. Kono popped her head in and mouthed “Is he okay?” to John. John shrugged and spread his hands in a ‘who knows’ gesture. Kono took one look at Danny’s face and beat a quick retreat. The last time he had looked that murderous was when Rachel and Grace had been car jacked. A moment later, Sherlock appeared in the doorway and John tensed, ready to intervene if Danny went for him.

“John,” Sherlock said, “a word if you please.” John walked out of the kitchen and followed Sherlock to the armoury where Steve was waiting.

“Sherlock tells me you are a good shot,” he said, “ and I would prefer it if you were armed, so I am going to issue you a weapon. You can take your pick.” John scanned the weapons available and chose a Sig Sauer P226 with a paddle holster, which he clipped onto his belt. Steve was impressed but made no comment, just asked him to sign it out and gave him some extra magazines. John noticed that above his signature, Sherlock had signed for a Beretta and felt a quick rush of relief. Sherlock was averse to guns but was well trained in their use and, if Danny’s comments held any truth, it was likely Sherlock was going to need one. As John turned to go back to Danny, Sherlock laid a hand on his arm.

“Please be careful,” he said. “I am not certain Detective Williams will be fully functioning in the field.”

“And whose fault is that?” John said quietly. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“You’re angry with me,” he stated. “Well, there is no time right now to indulge you in the discussion you obviously wish to have. Steve and I have a fairly long trip ahead of us, so we must get on the road.” John nodded.

“You be careful, too,” he said and walked away, oblivious to the rather anxious look on Sherlock’s face as he watched him go. 

“Danny’s a professional,” Steve commented. “Your partner will be fine.”

~

Two hours later, John and Danny were not fine. In fact, they were pinned down behind Danny’s car, caught in a vicious crossfire. Danny had radioed for backup but, in the meantime, they had their hands full. Three men with semi-automatics had ambushed them as they were trying to locate an address in the warehouse district of Kaka’ako. Danny was pretty sure he had at least nicked one of them, but obviously not enough to incapacitate him as he was still capable of firing at them. Their most pressing problem was the guy on the roof, who had a bird’s eye view of their position.

“Great, just great,” Danny muttered. He glanced at John, who was surprisingly calm. “Help’s on the way,” he said. “We just have to hold on for a few more minutes.” John nodded, his eyes scanning the buildings. There was too much open ground between them and better cover; there was no way they could safely make a run for it without becoming a target for the rooftop sniper. The only spot where one of them could shelter was a pile of garbage about ten feet to the left. It wasn’t much, just some empty oil drums and odd scraps of timber, not much protection from heavy fire. John studied all the angles and then nodded to himself. 

“If you can lay down some covering fire and keep the guy on the roof occupied, I think I can avoid the other two and take care of our immediate problem,” John said. He indicated the pile of garbage and, before Danny could protest, had taken off in a crouching run. Danny cursed but immediately started to fire rapidly at the rooftop. John rolled behind the oil drums, took a second to steady his breathing and then lined up his shot. The angle to the roof was much improved but it was still tricky. He waited until Danny ceased firing, saw the sniper inch his head above the roof coping, and fired. The man dropped and John switched his attention to the shooter nearest him. He could see a few drops of blood on the ground, so knew the man was wounded. He looked across at Danny, who was busy reloading, and signalled he was going to circle to his left. Danny nodded and indicated he would be going right. They could hear the wail of sirens now and Danny’s target took off at a run. He fired after him unsuccessfully and heard a sharp exchange to the left. He ran to assist John and found him struggling to keep a man pinned to the ground. Danny entered the fray and soon had the man in handcuffs. John got to his feet, breathing heavily.

“I thought you might want this one alive,” he gasped, then bent over and put his hands on his knees, trying to recover.

“Good idea,” Danny said and was about to add something complimentary about John’s marksmanship when he suddenly crumpled to the ground. Fortunately two police cars pulled up at that moment.

“Call an ambulance,” Danny yelled, “and somebody take this fool into custody.” He then fell on his knees beside John and anxiously checked him over. To his horror, blood was seeping from a bullet graze on John’s left temple and, although it did not look life threatening, John had lost consciousness, which was never a good sign. Thankfully, John’s eyelids fluttered and he came back to awareness. He tried to sit up but Danny pushed him back down.

“Lie still,” he said. “Ambulance is on the way.”

“I don’t need an ambulance,” John protested. “It’s just a graze. If I hadn’t bent over to catch my breath, I would have been fine. I just got dizzy, that’s all.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Danny said, “but do me a favour and go get checked out. I do not want to have to explain to that man how I got his partner shot and didn’t get him medical assistance.” John laughed.

“I don’t suppose there is any way I can convince you that Sherlock is actually quite a decent person, is there?” he asked rather hopefully.

“Not in this lifetime,” Danny snapped. “Here’s the ambulance. I’m going to follow behind and radio in our report and then, if you are really okay, we should return to HQ to interrogate our prisoner.”

~

Steven and Sherlock headed for Turtle Bay and, even with Steve driving, it took them almost an hour to reach their destination. Sherlock made no effort at conversation, merely looked out of the car window at the passing scenery. Steve tried to think of an opening gambit so that he could ask Sherlock what he had meant about Danny but nothing came to mind. Used to Danny’s loud company, the silence unnerved him, so he fiddled with the radio until he settled on an easy listening channel.

“I would prefer silence to that caterwauling,” Sherlock commented and Steve hurriedly switched it off. He cleared his throat but still could not find a way to broach the subject of Sherlock’s confrontation with Danny. Sherlock sighed.

“You may as well just say what is on your mind,” he said. “John has already registered his disapproval of my actions and I am sure you wish to do the same.”

“Not exactly, no,” Steve replied. “Look, I know Danny is a loudmouth and can be a little hard to take but he is my partner and I’m concerned about him. You were pretty hard on him, you know.”

“I merely spoke the truth,” Sherlock said with a shrug. “I admit I can sometimes be inept when confronted in that way but it was not my intention to cause a situation, the outcome of which will detract from the task in hand. My concern is not for Detective Williams’ feelings but for the efficiency of the team working this case. If he cannot detach himself from his emotions then I suggest he recuse himself.”

“Now, hold on just a minute,” Steve snapped. “Danny is my partner and a very valuable member of my team. He is a first class detective, not to mention an incredibly kind and brave individual. You have no right to sit in judgment and, if anyone must recuse himself to enable the rest of us to do our jobs, then it’s going to be you.” Sherlock was silenced.

Steve drove on and Sherlock resumed his observation of the passing scenery. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat and said,

“If it will contribute to the smooth operation of this case, I shall apologise to Detective Williams when we return to headquarters.” Steve smirked and said,

“I think that would be a very good idea.”

~

They arrived at their destination, only to find that the address they had uncovered led to an abandoned house. After a quick glance round, Steve was all for turning around and heading back to Honolulu but Sherlock insisted on examining the area minutely, collecting various pieces of debris and bagging them. He made Steve take lots of photographs, pointing out areas of particular interest. Despite his SEAL training, Steve could not detect anything to indicate why Sherlock chose those areas. He had noted various footprints around the property and some signs that someone had been living there, but they were all old and, in his opinion, had no bearing on their case. He obligingly clicked away, however, until Sherlock was satisfied. They then canvassed the neighbourhood but there were few people to question and those they did were of very little help. One person remembered a black van being at the property but couldn’t remember exactly when; another said it was a dark blue truck and had been there three days ago and, no, they hadn’t seen the driver.

They got back in the car, Steve headed south and turned on the police scanner. They listened to the report of shots fired at a warehouse in the Kaka’ako district, an officer down, a call for an ambulance, with growing horror. Steve turned on the lights and siren and floored the accelerator while he tried to call Danny on his cell phone. When the call went to voicemail, Steve was already dialling Kono, putting her on speaker when she picked up.

“They’re both okay,” was the first thing she said and both Steve and Sherlock sighed with relief. “They got into a fire fight with three suspects. John shot one and they caught another; the other one escaped when HPD arrived.”

“So the ambulance was for a suspect? We heard there was an officer down,” Steve asked. There was a moment’s hesitation and then Kono said,

“Dr. Watson received a minor head wound. He’s been taken to the Straub Clinic but Danny says he’s okay.”

“Steven,” Sherlock said tensely and Steve nodded.

“Sherlock and I are on our way,” he told Kono. “Tell Danny to wait until we get there.”

“Okay. HPD brought in the suspect they caught. He has received medical treatment for a minor flesh wound to his leg and we have him in custody here. Danny wants to interrogate him when he gets back.”

“Great, maybe he can give us some useful information. Call Chin back in unless he’s in the middle of something and we’ll compare notes after we get back from the hospital.”

“Yes, boss,” Kono said and then added, “ Um - Danny said to tell Sherlock he was sorry.”

~

John was sitting on the side of the bed in a cubicle in the emergency room. Apart from a headache, he felt absolutely fine and was fretting to get back to the 5-O headquarters before Sherlock returned. He had been thoroughly examined and had his head wound cleaned and dressed. He hadn’t needed any stitches, just a couple of butterfly closures, and he had a prescription for antibiotics and painkillers, neither of which he intended taking. Danny had gone to check in with Kono and John was just waiting for his paperwork to be completed so that he could be discharged. There was a minor flurry outside the cubicle and, as he turned his head, Sherlock came through the curtains, frowning with anxiety.

“John,” he said; just his name, but his voice trembled very slightly and John rushed to reassure him.

“I’m fine,” John said, “really. It’s just a scratch.” Sherlock didn’t reply, just walked up to him and laid his hands on his shoulders. He scrutinised his face with the same attention he gave to evidence in a case and finally nodded, apparently satisfied.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Please, Sherlock, let’s get out of here first. I’ll tell you all about it, I promise, but I really don’t like hospital emergency rooms.” Sherlock’s lips twitched slightly at this piece of nonsense but he said,

“I will go and enquire whether or not you are free to leave.” He turned and left as quickly as he had arrived and John heard him speaking to Steve about finding the doctor to discharge him. And then, ominously, he heard him say,

“I would like to speak to you later, Detective Williams, if you please.” John closed his eyes and revised his opinion of his location. It suddenly seemed a much more desirable spot than anywhere where Sherlock and Danny would be together.

Finally, the paperwork was done and they were able to leave. Sherlock pulled John aside.

“Much as I would like to travel with you, would you oblige me by returning with Commander McGarrett?”

“Sherlock, no, please,” John protested, dreading Danny and Sherlock being left alone in a car together. Sherlock patted his cheek gently.

“It’ll be fine,” he said and turned away to make his request known to Steve and Danny. Steve obviously did not like the idea but Sherlock persisted, turning the full battery of his not inconsiderable charm upon Steve until he agreed. Danny was not charmed but agreed when Steve all but ordered him to. John followed Steve with dragging steps, convinced that Danny and Sherlock would come to blows, metaphorically if not actually. Steve started the engine and was going to turn off the police scanner but John stopped him.

“You could turn it down a little,” he said with a small smile, “since my head is throbbing but I would prefer to monitor it. We might hear of a traffic accident or even a homicide.” Steve chuckled.

“Yes, the possibility did cross my mind but I think Sherlock wanted to ride with Danny so he could apologise to him.” 

“What?” John shook his head and then regretted it. “Ugh, my head! That was a daft thing to do! Steve, trust me, Sherlock never, ever apologises to anyone.”

“Well, he promised to apologise to Danny,” Steve retorted with a smug look on his face. John eyed him carefully.

“How did you coerce him into that?”

“I didn’t; he volunteered.” John looked very doubtful.

“You threatened to take him off the case, didn’t you?” he said eventually. Steve glanced at him and grinned.

“Something like that. Sherlock said Danny should step down since he was emotionally unstable and I merely pointed out that, if anyone were to step down it wouldn’t be a member of my team, it would be him.” John whistled and then started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asked.

“I think Hawai’i is proving to be very good for Sherlock,” was all John would say by way of explanation.

Meanwhile, Danny and Sherlock were driving sedately behind Steve and John. The silence was frosty to say the least and then they both decided to speak at once. 

“I’m really sorry John -” Danny started just as Sherlock said,

“I am advised it would be politic to apologise -” They both stopped and glared at each other.

“Excuse me,” Sherlock said. “Please, go ahead.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Danny said, rather gleefully. “This I gotta hear!” Sherlock harrumphed and his expression resembled that of someone who had just caught a whiff of something very unpleasant. After a moment, he said,

“I am led to believe I owe you an apology for what I said this morning.” Danny waited but Sherlock said nothing more.

“That’s it?” Danny demanded. “That’s you’re idea of an apology?” Sherlock looked surprised.

“You require more? Oh, very well. I apologise for speaking to you the way I did. There!” Danny blinked and then, despite himself, he laughed.

“You, Sherlock Holmes, are a piece of work,” he said, shaking his head. “That is the worst apology I have ever heard; even Steve managed an ‘I’m sorry’!”

“I would agree that the practice is somewhat unfamiliar to me,” Sherlock said. “If it was unsatisfactory, perhaps you could content yourself with that thought.” Danny could hardly believe his ears and took his eyes off the road to glare at Sherlock. Sherlock did not flinch and there was a decided twinkle in his eye. Danny realised Sherlock was fully aware of just how outrageous his last statement had been. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that the man had panache and he realised there was little point in remaining at daggers drawn as they still had to work together.

“Okay,” he conceded ungraciously. They drove on for a while and then Sherlock asked,

“What were you going to say to me?” Danny bit his lip.

“I’m sorry John got hurt on my watch,” he said, not daring to look at Sherlock.

“Was it your fault?” Sherlock turned his head to look at Danny.

“No, not exactly. It was a bad situation but - ”

“Well, if you did not pull the trigger or cause John to be hurt by any incompetent action, then you have nothing for which to apologise. John willingly accompanied you and he was aware of the risk. In any case, there is no need whatsoever to apologise to me. If you feel an apology is due, surely John should be the recipient?”

“Jeez, you’re a cold hearted bastard,” Danny said.

“So I’ve been told.” 

Danny was rendered speechless by this and they finished the journey in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things do not go exactly according to plan.

Back at 5-O, the first priority was to interrogate the prisoner, Zhang Zhu Guan. Danny and Steve undertook to do this and John and Sherlock observed. The prisoner was a Chinese national and pretended at first he did not understand English. When Steve then addressed him in somewhat mangled Mandarin, he gave in and admitted he could speak English, but he would only say he wanted a lawyer.

“Did you hear that, Danny?” Steve asked. “The man wants a lawyer.”

“I heard, Steven. I have to say partner, we have been very remiss in explaining to this nice gentleman just what his rights are.”

“I was read my rights,” the prisoner said, sullenly, “ and I want a lawyer.”

“You were read your rights as a suspected criminal,” Danny said. “You, however, are not a criminal, are you?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Zhang said with a grin. Danny leaned in and got right in the man’s face.

“I’m glad you agree with me,” he said. “Because you, sir, are not a criminal, you are a terrorist!” He shouted this right in the man’s ear, making him lurch back. Steve then rejoined the conversation.

“Danny, would you please explain to the prisoner what his rights are as a suspected terrorist?”

“Why, certainly, Steven, it would be my pleasure.” He leaned in again and said,

“It’s easy, scumbag, you have none!” Watching the proceedings with interest, John turned to Sherlock and said,

“They’re rather good at this, aren’t they?” Sherlock sniffed.

“I suppose they are, within their limitations. They do have the – what is the phrase? – ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine down pat but their threats are empty and our suspect probably knows that. Unfortunately, I don’t think their methods are going to obtain the desired results and they will have to stop the interrogation and allow the man a lawyer, otherwise any case against him will be dismissed.” 

“You don’t think he’ll talk?”

“Not unless we apply some leverage. If, for example, Steve was to suggest that we know his passport is a fake and that he is actually wanted by the Chinese government for crimes against the state, perhaps that would make him think again. The threat of being returned to China under arrest and handed over to their form of justice could well induce his co-operation. He is a small cog in a very large wheel, so we could afford to be lenient in exchange for information. That is not to imply, however, that retribution would not be preferable in my opinion. I have not forgotten that he tried to kill you, John.” John hid a smile at this last comment and was about to relay Sherlock’s words to Steve via the radio com when Sherlock said,

“Wait! John, do you see that?”

“See what?”

“The tattoo on the inside of his wrist. We need to get a closer look at it and also at the body of the man you shot. What happened to it?”

“It’s at the office of the Medical Examiner for autopsy. Sherlock, what’s going on?” But Sherlock was on the scent and had walked off. He marched into the interrogation room, grabbed the man’s wrist and peered at the tiny red tattoo. Steve was about to protest but Sherlock said quickly,

“Can we do this later? I believe I have the answer but I must see the body of the man John shot to confirm my deductions.”

“Okay, we can arrange that,” Steve said. “Danny, take this piece of garbage back to lockup for now and then we’ll pay Max a visit.”

Collecting John on the way, they headed over to see Dr. Max Bergman. He pulled the body part way out of the cooler and was surprised when Sherlock asked to look at the corpse’s feet but withdrew the body completely and allowed him to do so. John immediately understood what was going on and said,

“He’s looking for a tattoo of a lotus. If he’s right, then the men who attacked Danny and me were members of the Black Lotus Tong and we already know they have close associations with Moriarty.”

Sherlock found the tattoo and said,

“This man was just a foot soldier but, from the tattoo on his wrist, Zhang is a lieutenant. It is vital that we get him to talk.”

“Easier said than done,” Danny said. “We can hold him for 24 hours but then we are going to have to let him have a lawyer.”

“If you will allow me,” Sherlock said, “I believe I have a ruse, which will encourage him to forego the lawyer and give us all the information he has.”

“What are you planning?” Steve asked. 

“Threaten him with death,” Sherlock said calmly. 

“Oh God,” Danny said, “You and Steve are cut from the same cloth. Don’t tell me you plan on hanging him off a roof, too.”

“Hang him off a – what? Of course not! I need to find an art supply store.”

Completely bemused by this, Steve and Danny followed in Sherlock’s wake. Even John was a little puzzled until he saw what Sherlock bought. 

“Do you know how to make one?” he asked as they all climbed back in Danny’s car.

“I have an idea but I am sure we can locate instructions on the internet,” Sherlock replied. “If we all try, one should be acceptable.”

And so, not long after, the seven of them were attempting to follow the instructions from an origami website. Steve and Danny soon gave up; their attempts were laughable and far too big, but the rest persisted and, finally, the others all managed to produce acceptable versions of the tiny paper lotus flower Sherlock and John knew so well from the smuggling case they had solved early in their partnership. Sherlock decided Kono’s was the most perfect and said,

“Now, if you would remove the prisoner from his cell for a short while, all we have to do is leave this in plain sight and, if I am correct, it will not be long before he asks for protection.”

Danny was doubtful but agreed they had nothing to lose, so he and Steve took the prisoner back to interrogation for another round of questions. They had no success and soon returned him to his cell. Sherlock lingered in the corridor and, as Zhang was led past, he whispered something in his ear. Zhang blanched and, when he saw what was in his cell, he was obviously terrified. Nestled on the pillow of the cot, the little black flower seemed innocent enough. Danny made no comment and left him alone as Sherlock had instructed. Half an hour later, one of the guards called Steve and told him the prisoner wanted to speak to him. Dumbfounded, Steve and Danny went back to the interrogation room and had the prisoner brought to them. 

Zhang was visibly trembling by the time he got to the interrogation room and couldn’t talk fast enough once he was assured of protective custody. Unfortunately, his information was limited to the activities of the Black Lotus and their smuggling operation but what they got was pure gold. Drugs, weapons and people were smuggled through various ports, including Honolulu, into the States and money and sometimes people were smuggled out. He and his team had arrived in Hawai’i that way a few days ago as additional security. They had been based in Kaka’ato because it was close to Sand Island and there was a container ship due in that night from Xiamen. He had been given instructions to provide extra security as there was a VIP arriving along with the usual shipment. He did not know the name of the visitor and could not identify Moriarty from photographs shown to him. He did, however, identify Wo Fat as being the ‘big boss’ in Hawai’i. From what he had heard, Wo Fat was going to be at the pier that night to greet the visitor. He also volunteered the information that he had seen photographs of the man who had spoken to him in the corridor. All the security men had been alerted about him and there were specific orders: his voice dropped and he whispered, “Qian sar.”

“Say what?” Danny asked.

“It’s sort of slang: basically, it means shoot to kill,” Steve translated. “We need to persuade Sherlock to stay out of harm’s way until we can catch these people.” Danny snorted.

“Good luck with that,” he said. “I might hate the son of a bitch but I’ll say this for him, he isn’t afraid of a fight. I don’t think he’s going to stay home while we try and catch Moriarty.”

~

After they’d had a team meeting to discuss the information and form a plan of attack for the evening, and then organised support from HPD and their SWAT team, they adjourned for something to eat. Despite all the activity, it was just three o’clock and they would be holding a briefing at seven for the back up teams. John and Sherlock did not join the team, electing rather to return to their hotel and change their clothes for something more suitable for a night operation. John ate a light meal in the hotel restaurant and decided he should lie down for a while to give his head a chance to stop pounding. Sherlock, keyed up by the thought of finally catching Moriarty, drank some coffee but refused to eat. John didn’t argue and said he would try and sleep for a couple of hours, making Sherlock promise to wake him by six at the latest.

Drawing the drapes to cast the room into darkeness, John stripped off to just his boxers and crawled into bed. He closed his eyes and tried to rest but his mind was whirling. It was hard to believe they had only been in Hawai’i for twenty-four hours. He’d had enough excitement for one day and there was the prospect of much more later that evening. Added to that was the huge worry over the death threat to Sherlock. Steve had warned them about it and tried to persuade Sherlock to stay behind, but he hadn’t been surprised when Sherlock refused. John could only content himself with planning to stick to Sherlock like glue in the hopes that he could avert disaster. Sherlock was probably going over the evidence and photographs he and Steve had collected right now instead of resting and he probably wouldn’t be as alert as he should be when the fireworks started, as they inevitably would.

He drifted a little and then became aware of a presence in the room. He slipped his hand under his pillow, his fingers curling around the butt of his pistol, which he had had the forethought to put there. Long white fingers curled around his forearm and Sherlock said softly,

“Don’t be alarmed, there is no danger.” John relaxed, releasing his pent up breath. “Would you object if I joined you?” Sherlock then asked and John flipped back the covers in silent invitation. He was not surpised by Sherlock’s request: John had been in a life-threatening situation and been hurt, and Sherlock was seeking reassurance that all was well in his own particular world. Sherlock slid in and spooned behind him. He wrapped an arm around John’s waist, reaching for his hand. John tangled their fingers together and held Sherlock’s hand against his heart as he started to drift off to sleep, lulled by the rare pleasure of having Sherlock in his bed. His final thought was that Danny Williams would never understand but, quite possibly, might still envy him.

~

Back at 5-O, Jenna and Kono slipped out to grab a bite at a nearby deli and Chin wisely found an excuse to absent himself for a while. Danny and Steve ignored the elephant in the room and opted for a pizza delivery. They went over the plan again, refining it as much as they could, ate the pizza, and then found themselves just sitting looking at each other. After the silence became unbearable, Steve cleared his throat and said,

“So, Danny, about that thing this morning?” Danny grimaced.

“You know, Sherlock apologised to me,” he started before Steve could say aything else. Steve made a non-committal sound. “I don’t know what you threatened him with but I’m guessing you were going to throw his ass off the case, if not off the island. Nothing else would have forced him to even try to be polite. I don’t think the man has ever apologised in his life before and, I have to say, it was the worst attempt at someone saying they were sorry since your pathetic effort when we first met.”

“You deserved an apology,” Steve said carefully, testing the waters to see which way Danny was going to jump. 

“I wanted to shove it down his throat,” Danny replied harshly, “but, even though I cannot bear the sight of him, I admit he has come through with the goods so far and we still need his input on this Moriarty guy, so I accepted it.”

“That’s okay then,” Steve said.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Danny said with finality, glad Steve hadn’t probed any further and unwilling to prolong any discussion on the subject.

“I wonder what he said to Zhang,” Steve said. Puzzled by the non sequitur, Danny raised an eyebrow. “Sherlock: when we passed him with Zhang on the way back to lock up. He whispered something in his ear and Zhang was already nervous before he even saw the paper flower.” Danny shrugged.

“You’ll have to ask him, I guess. I thought he said something about a spider but that can’t be right.”

“A spider? Doesn’t seem likely. I’m going to go down to the armoury to clean my weapons while we have some free time.”

“Okay. I think I’ll give Gracie a call.”

“Good idea. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Steve walked off and Danny sat gazing into space. Sherlock’s words were churning in his gut. The man had no right to say such things but, in the privacy of his own thoughts, Danny had to admit there was a lot of truth in what he had said. He was a coward and, although he would never have described his feelings for Steve as ‘a schoolboy crush’ for they went far deeper than that, he had to accept that Sherlock was right about him not trusting Steve. How Sherlock had figured him out so well was a mystery.

It didn’t seem like only a day since he had been rehearsing the speech that he had planned on making to Steve after the barbecue. Even then, he had been working on what to say if Steve turned him down. Sometimes, he thought Steve returned his feelings, the way he looked at him, the times he touched him when it wasn’t strictly necessary, but he was so afraid he was wrong. What if he told Steve about his feelings and was rejected out of hand? He’d have to quit the 5-O and he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk losing his job and maybe having to leave the islands. That way he wouldn’t just lose Steve; he’d lose Gracie as well. Maybe it would be for the best just to carry on the way he had been. The thought was too depressing to dwell on and, honestly, he knew it wasn’t possible. He could not maintain the façade of friends and partners for very much longer without something going badly wrong. And now, Steve was walking on eggshells when they were together and he didn’t know whether it was because he wanted Danny to say something or wanted to avoid the subject altogether. Damn Sherlock Holmes and his deductions! Danny fervently wished he had never laid eyes on the man.

~

By six, the team were back at HQ getting ready for the briefing at seven. At six thirty, Sherlock and John arrived, both clad entirely in black. Sherlock, dressed in tailored black pants and a thin, long-sleeved cotton sweater, drew the eye as easily as he had in his linen suit. He would probably look good in a flour sack, Danny thought sourly, but there was no escaping the fact that he was stunningly attractive. That he was completely oblivious to it, and wouldn’t have cared even if he had been aware of it, merely added to his charisma. Beside him, John looked solidly competent, shadowing Sherlock closely. It was quite apparent he was taking the death threat very seriously. It was reassuring to know John was more than capable of taking care of himself and his obstreperous partner. Danny hadn’t forgotten that incredible shot he had made earlier in the day; it seemed John Watson had hidden depths of his own.

As 5-O would be taking the lead, Steve went over the plan yet again with all of them. His main worry was how many men they would be dealing with, one of the many unknowns. There would be Black Lotus security with the shipment and more on the ground. Wo Fat was sure to bring more men with him. By now he would know Zhang had been arrested and would be on the alert for a police raid even if he was confident Zhang would not talk. The team would take up strategic positions so that they could monitor the activity on and around the ship. The aim was to catch Wo Fat and Moriarty red-handed with the shipment and Steve wanted Wo Fat alive so he could question him. When he asked about Moriarty, Sherlock shrugged dismissively.

“The British government would certainly wish to have him captured but I have no opinion on the matter,” he said. “If he becomes a fatality, then so be it.” John then chimed in,

“You know, it’s possible the VIP isn’t Moriarty. I’m hoping it is but we should be prepared for it to be someone else.”

“A valid point, John,” Sherlock conceded. “Zhang did not confirm it was Moriarty and, whilst it is not surprising he could not identify him, as there is no reason why he should recognise him, he did not recognise the name either. But the involvement of the Black Lotus might be indicative so we shall remain optimistic and hope it is, indeed, Moriarty. It is time that man was brought to justice.”

“Okay,” Steve wrapped up their pre-briefing meeting. “Let’s gear up; Chin will you make sure Sherlock and John have vests and radio comms. I don’t need to remind you, but I’ll say it anyway. Check your weapons, test the comms, make sure you have enough ammo. And remember, I want Wo Fat alive. Once he arrives, HPD will close all access roads and we should be able to take him.”

“Cornered rats become extremely dangerous,” John said quietly to Sherlock. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

~

Zhang’s information proved sound and, at ten o’clock, three cars pulled up by the container ship. Eight armed men got out of the front and rear vehicles but Wo Fat stayed inside. The ship was being unloaded and a fleet of trucks had been pulling out, each loaded with a container. HPD would stop and search them once they were off the pier but there were two trucks parked to one side. It seemed obvious that these would be taking the smuggled goods once the legitimate business had been conducted but no one was making assumptions. Steve was relying on the SWAT team to seize them while 5-O focused on Wo Fat and the VIP.

Steve had night vision binoculars trained on the gangplank and eventually a group of armed men cautiously descended, very much on the alert. Wo Fat got out of the car and waited beside it. The man in the centre of the group drew all eyes and Sherlock confirmed over the radio that it was, indeed, Moriarty. They watched anxiously as Wo Fat and Moriarty shook hands and climbed into the car. The eight men with them returned to their vehicles and the small convoy pulled away from the dock. Chin and Kono and two HPD cruisers were ready to block their exit; Danny and Steve were to fall in behind and Jenna, who was driving Sherlock and John, would back them up. Timing was crucial but initially all went well. The front car slewed sideways trying to avoid the road block and effectively impeded the other two. Steve and Danny blocked the retreat and leapt out of the car, sheltering behind it as Steve shouted for them to lay down their weapons. Not surprisingly, this was ignored and the eight armed guards were soon engaged in a fire fight to front and rear. Jenna had pulled in behind Danny's car and, curtly ordering John and Sherlock to stay put, she ran to support Steve and Danny. There was more gunfire behind them as the SWAT team moved in on the smuggled containers.

Ignoring Jenna, Sherlock and John slipped out of the back seat of the car and slid into the darkness. Sherlock had his eyes fixed on the centre car, sure Wo Fat and Moriarty would take advantage of the chaos to make their escape. John, meanwhile, although keeping a wary eye on their targets, was still watching Sherlock protectively. Inevitably, he saw the red dot of a rifle scope appear in the centre of Sherlock's chest, the trajectory indicating a rooftop sniper. The area had been swept before they took up their positions and HPD had closed the access immediately afterwards; how the hell had someone managed to get into position on a warehouse roof? Even as the thought flashed through John’s mind he had pushed Sherlock to the ground and yelled, “Sniper!” over the radio. Losing his balance as he thrust Sherlock out of harm’s way, the momentum carried John with Sherlock. As he landed on top of him, he felt a hammer blow to his back which knocked the breath out of him. Sherlock struggled out from under him and hastily pulled him out of the line of fire.

John was conscious and, after Sherlock had felt the pulse in his neck, he said,

“John, can you hear me? Don’t try to speak, just nod your head if you understand me. The bullet fortunately struck your vest. I believe you will be safe here so please do not move until you are fully recovered and then only to seek shelter. It seems you have saved my life yet again but there is no time - ” Sherlock drew a shuddering breath and then said,

“I’ll call for help.” And then he was gone.

John tried to shout after him, to stop him chasing after Moriarty, but he didn’t seem able to get breath into his lungs. He heard Sherlock reporting his position and Steve sending Jenna to assist but no one was keeping tabs on Sherlock and, as far as John knew, the sniper was still in position. The fire fight was slowing and Jenna soon appeared by his side. Making a huge effort, John managed to gasp Sherlock’s name. Jenna, always quick on the uptake, guessed what was going on and reported back to Steve. Steve radioed Sherlock for his position but there was no reply. With relief, John heard Chin reporting that the sniper had been apprehended but there was no word on Sherlock or Wo Fat and Moriarty. Steve and Danny were in pursuit and John strained to hear what was happening. Kono then came on line saying that the armed men were all either dead or in custody but there was nothing after that, the comms hissing with static. John was gradually recovering and had struggled to a sitting position when he heard shouts and gunfire; three distinct, separate shots. He grabbed Jenna’s hand and she said,

“I’ll go; please stay there, I’ll be right back.” She then took off at a run, followed by Kono and then Chin. John tried to believe they would handle the situation but his gut was telling him that something bad was about to happen. He hauled himself to his feet, checked his weapon and made his way painfully to where he had last seen Sherlock. The area was a rabbit warren of warehouses, workshops and alleys; so many places to hide and too many to search effectively. John just kept going on instinct, glancing round corners, ducking in and out of dark alleys, working his way deeper into the maze.

He almost stumbled right into them. Approaching what he thought was yet another crossway, he glanced around the corner of the wall and froze for a second when he saw Sherlock lying on the ground in an area surrounded on three sides by buildings. He only just managed to duck back to cover when he heard voices. One was unmistakably Danny's.

“You goddamn son of a bitch,” he was yelling. “You shot him; he’d laid down his weapon and you still shot him.” For one horrible moment, John thought he was talking about Sherlock but the underlying emotion was so raw that John guessed he was talking about Steve. John grimaced at the predicament he was in. He was too close to use the radio to call the others; he would give away his position if he tried. He risked another quick look and saw Moriarty and Wo Fat, who was pointing a gun at Danny. Danny was on his knees next to Sherlock but he seemed oblivious to the danger he was in, still yelling furiously and John felt himself grinning despite the circumstances. Moriarty didn’t appear to be armed, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Wo Fat was the immediate threat, however, and John hoped Steve would understand if things didn’t work out the way he’d planned. Another quick look to get his bearings, a couple of shaky breaths, and then he turned the corner and fired.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Case completed, Steve throws a party and Sherlock plays an unfamiliar role.

John and Danny were sitting together in the waiting area, anxiously awaiting news of Steve and Sherlock. Steve was in surgery having an ugly bullet wound repaired and Sherlock had been sent for a CAT scan. Kono and Jenna had volunteered to wrap up the evening’s activities on condition that they were brought up to date immediately there was any news and Chin had gone to report to the governor. Danny was a little battered and bruised but, compared to John, he was in good shape. John felt as though he had been run over by a truck. The EMTs had checked them both out and suggested they should go to hospital for a thorough examination but neither of them paid any heed. They were far more anxious that their partners should receive treatment and followed the ambulances in Danny’s car.

Once the doctors had told them that neither Sherlock nor Steve was in any immediate danger, they settled down to wait. As the adrenaline wore off, they both started to feel the damage sustained and exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm them. Coffee from the vending machine helped a little but the time was dragging by. To prevent himself from worrying about brain damage, sub-cranial swelling and all the other horrible possibilities after a severe blow to the head, John distracted himself by talking to Danny.

“What happened to Steve?” he asked. “I heard you yelling at Wo Fat, something about shooting him after Steve had surrendered.”

“Yeah, we were following your idiot partner and walked right into a trap. Wo Fat got the jump on me and threatened to kill me if Steve didn’t surrender his weapon. Of course, Steve wasn’t too happy but he put his gun down. I knew he had a back up and I was waiting for him to make his move but Wo Fat didn’t give him the opportunity; the bastard just let Steve disarm and then he shot him. I managed to deflect his aim a little bit and Steve tried to duck but he still managed to put a bullet in his shoulder. There was a lot of blood - ” Danny’s voice shuddered to a halt. After a second, he continued. “I guess Wo Fat thought I would serve him better as a hostage, so he didn’t put a bullet through my head right there and then. Instead, he dragged me off to meet Moriarty.”

“So it was Moriarty who attacked Sherlock?” John asked.

“I assume so but I didn’t see it happen. Sherlock was out cold by the time we got there and, well, I’d kinda lost it, so I wasn’t paying that much attention. And then you came to the rescue again. I’m guessing you’ve had plenty of practice at that, seeing as how your partner is a complete nut job.” John smiled.

“Well, Steve doesn’t strike me as particularly sane, either,” he commented. “In fact, I see a lot of similarities between him and Sherlock.”

“You do? I know I said they were cut from the same cloth but that was only because they seem to agree on ‘fear of death’ as a legitimate form of interrogation.”

“Oh, there’s more to it than that. They both get so focused on the task at hand that they forget everything else; they both plunge into danger without thinking twice; and they both rely on their partners to get them out of the mess they get themselves into, don’t you agree?” Danny thought about it for a while.

“You know, you might have a point. I believe we are seriously under appreciated. If I say anything to Steve, he just pulls a face.”

“So does Sherlock,” John admitted with a laugh. “I can always tell when he doesn’t want to do something because he gets this look - ”

“I call that Steve’s constipated face,” Danny interrupted and they both laughed. “Then there’s aneurysm face; that’s quite possibly my favourite,” Danny continued and, suddenly, they were both giggling like naughty schoolboys as they found release from the tension which had strained their nerves to the limit.

“Aneurysm face,” John gasped. “That’s perfect. Sherlock gets that when he has to deal with Anderson, the police forensics guy. He always makes him turn around so he doesn’t have to look at him when he’s thinking about a crime scene.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, they hate each other. Sherlock once told him he lowered the whole IQ of the street when - ” He stopped talking and they both got to their feet, suddenly sober, as the surgeon came into the room.

“Commander McGarrett is resting comfortably,” he said. “He’s lost a lot of blood and is very weak but the bullet didn’t do as much damage as we had feared. There is little to no nerve damage and he should regain full use of his arm.” Danny let out a long breath of relief.

“Is there any news on Sherlock – Mr. Holmes?” John asked anxiously.

“I’m sorry I don’t know what his condition is. I’m sure his doctor will advise you as soon as he has any news.”

“Can I see Steve – er – Commander McGarrett?” Danny asked.

“He’s still in recovery but you can have a few minutes with him once he’s moved to a bed.”

“Okay, thanks.” The surgeon walked off and Danny sat down again, obviously relieved. John was suddenly far more anxious than he had been; a CAT scan shouldn’t take this long. He was pacing around the room when Sherlock’s doctor arrived.

“Dr Watson?” he asked. “Mr. Holmes would like to see you. I don’t need to tell you to be brief but he won’t cooperate until he’s spoken to you.”

“So obviously he’s conscious,” John said. “What’s the prognosis?”

“He has a severe concussion and we wish to keep him in overnight for observation. The CAT scan was clear but, as I am sure you know, there are always risks following a blow to the head. Perhaps you can persuade him that a night’s rest in hospital is for his own good.” John grinned, relief flooding through him.

“Being difficult, is he?” he asked as he followed the doctor. He quickly turned back to Danny for a moment and said,

“I should only be a few minutes but if you’re called away to see Steve before I get back, I’ll wait for you here, okay?” Danny nodded and then John had no thought for anyone other than Sherlock.

He was lying in bed, his eyes open but his usual sharp look of alertness was absent. His brow was puckered by a painful frown and he was slow to focus on John. John sat down beside the bed and laid his hand over Sherlock’s. Sherlock slowly turned his head to look at him and smiled slightly.

“Hi,” John said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You gave me quite a scare.”

“That was not my intention, John, believe me.”

“I know, but I’m worried about you and now the doctors tell me you are being difficult. You need to stay in hospital, Sherlock, at least overnight.”

“I am not being difficult,” Sherlock protested. “I merely pointed out that my partner is a highly qualified doctor and much more capable of monitoring my condition than any one of them.”

“Ah, I see. If the concussion wasn’t so severe I would agree, but I don’t have the sophisticated equipment they have here to monitor what’s going on. It is for your own good and my peace of mind. Please, Sherlock, twelve hours isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

“I would rather be with you,” Sherlock said fretfully.

“I’ll stay if you want me to,” John said. Sherlock studied his face.

“No,” he said finally. When John’s face fell, Sherlock tutted at him impatiently. “I have already made it quite clear I would prefer your company but you are exhausted. Go back to the hotel and get some sleep and I will reconcile myself to one night here since you ask it of me.” John smiled fondly at him.

“You need to rest,” he said and got to his feet.

“Before you go,” Sherlock said, “please tell me briefly the conclusion of our adventure. You may save the details for tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid Wo Fat managed to escape. Steve sustained a bad gunshot wound but it is not life threatening and the surgeon said he would make a full recovery. Everyone else is fine.”

“And Moriarty?”

“I shot him.”

“Then I assume he’s dead,” Sherlock said with a slight smile.

“I hope so but his body has yet to be recovered. It was a chest wound and probably fatal but Wo Fat somehow helped him away from the scene.”

“And you did not pursue them?” Sherlock sounded disappointed.

“No Sherlock, I did not pursue them. You were lying unconscious at my feet and I considered your wellbeing a much higher priority.”

“An emotional decision, John; it would have been preferable to ensure Moriarty did not survive.”

“I disagree but let’s not argue. Please get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I shall require a change of clothing,” Sherlock said and his eyes drifted closed. John turned away but Sherlock had one more thing to say, a phrase he used but rarely. “Thank you, John,” he murmured.

~

After John had left him to go and see Sherlock, Danny called Kono to give her an update on Steve’s condition. She in turn filled him in on the clean up exercise HPD was conducting. The two containers they had seized had been filled with drugs. The body count was pretty high; six Black Lotus members dead, four injured. They had another six in custody as well as the captain of the container ship. One police officer had been killed and three others hurt in addition to Steve and Sherlock. The search for Wo Fat and Moriarty was underway but so far without success. The amount of blood at the scene did not bode well for Moriarty’s survival but no one was assuming anything. After Victor Hesse had survived an apparently fatal wound, there was a possibility Moriarty would, too.

Danny then called Chin, who had just finished his interview with the Governor. She was delighted with the success of the operation, although obviously concerned about the whereabouts of Wo Fat and Moriarty. He had left her placing a call to London to speak to a representative of the British government. Chin had overheard the beginning of her call and said,

“There was something a little unusual about it, Danny. I heard her ask for a Mr. Mycroft Holmes. Do you think he’s related to Sherlock?”

“It’s possible,” Danny replied. “Maybe that’s how come they sent Sherlock here.”

“Well, despite his peculiarities, you have to admit he was a huge help.” Danny snorted. 

“Still don’t like him, I see,” Chin commented and then Danny briefed him on Steve’s condition and they ended the call.

Not long after, Danny was allowed to see Steve. He had recovered from the anesthetic and, apart from the dressing on his shoulder and being hooked up to a drip and various monitors, looked the same as usual. The first thing he asked was what had happened to Wo Fat. Danny sighed but brought him up to date, wishing Steve wasn’t so obsessed. He repeated all that Kono had told him, let him know Sherlock was going to be okay and asked if he needed anything.

“Just some clothes for the morning,” Steve said.

“What? Steven, you have just undergone major surgery and there is no way they will discharge you tomorrow.”

“I’ll discharge myself,” Steve said. “I’m fine except for having my arm in a sling. I need to get back to 5-O, Danny. We have to get a lead on Wo Fat before he manages to get off the island.”

“Everyone is working on that already,” Danny replied. “You may not want to believe it, but we can manage a couple of days without you, you know.”

“Danny, please, don’t argue,” Steve begged. “I must get out of here.” Steve sounded really worked up, so Danny conceded before he did something stupid.

“Okay, babe, I’ll bring your stuff but promise me you’ll listen to the doctors and actually follow their instructions, okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Steve said glibly, which made Danny suspect he probably had plans for some violent activity.

“You will do what the doctors say, Steven, or I will not bring you any pants, do you understand me? You will rest and recuperate and take your painkillers and you will not, repeat not, under any circumstances, start an island wide manhunt single-handed as soon as you get out. You’re riding a desk until that arm is healed or you will stay put even if I have to handcuff you to the bed.”

“But - ” 

“No buts! Do we have a deal?” Steve made a face and muttered something that might have been agreement.

“Are you pouting?” Danny demanded. “Seriously, what are you, two years old?”

“I’m not pouting! Danny, I am not pouting, stop looking at me like that! Okay, alright, just bring me some clothes for Pete’s sake!” 

“Tomorrow, bright and early, I promise. Now be a good boy for the nice doctors.” Danny walked off, gleefully listening to Steve muttering darkly. John was waiting for him and he drove him back to the hotel. They made arrangements to meet in the morning to collect their respective partners, both wishing they would be advised by the medical profession and both knowing there was no likelihood of this happening.

~

By the time there had been the inevitable arguments and all the paperwork, including disclaimers of liability, had been signed, half the morning had disappeared. Despite protests from both Danny and John, their recalcitrant partners insisted on going straight to the 5-O headquarters to be brought up to date on the situation. Wo Fat and Moriarty had apparently vanished into thin air but every lead was being followed and the prisoners interrogated, so far without success. As the hours passed, both Sherlock and Steve had to accept that their targets had slipped through the net and the trail had gone cold. Sherlock asked for the use of a microscope and he and John went off to the forensics lab to study the evidence and photographs Sherlock had collected the previous morning, hoping to maybe turn up a new clue. John had to calculate backwards to fully grasp that they had only been in Hawai’i for two full days. It seemed like a lifetime. They had managed to destroy a major drug smuggling ring and put a huge dent in Moriarty’s operation but the fact that he and Wo Fat had evaded capture left a feeling of dissatisfaction which was hard to shake.

Added to that, both John and Sherlock had been hurt, Sherlock much more so than John, and John had definitely killed one man and very possibly Moriarty as well. It was a lot to absorb and his mind churned as he tried to assist Sherlock. Eventually, Sherlock had to concede defeat. The evidence he had collected gave indications that the house he and Steve had visited had, indeed, been the headquarters for the Black Lotus tong on the island but there was nothing to help track down either Wo Fat or Moriarty. Sherlock refused to admit that peering into the microscope was making his head ache but, ever observant, John saw the familiar little frown appear between his eyes and called a halt.

They returned to 5-O but Steve and the team had achieved little more since the morning. Steve eventually declared they had all done more than enough for one day and, unless HPD or the transport authorities found their missing targets, they could take the rest of the day to relax and get some rest. They were all dead on their feet and the suggestion was met with relief. John immediately hustled Sherlock out before he could find some excuse to stay and the rest of the team packed up their things and drifted away. Danny drove Steve home and was surprised to find a delivery truck in the driveway. He looked blankly at Steve, who finally said,

“What day is it?” Danny wasn’t surprised he’d lost track and had to think about it himself.

“Friday,” he said finally.

“I ordered stuff for the barbecue,” Steve commented. “I guess it’s arrived.”

“You can send it back, babe,” Danny said. “Nobody expects you to organise a barbecue in your condition.”

“There’s nothing to organise, I just have to light the barbecue and stick the beers on ice. I’m sure you and Chin can handle the grill and Kamekona’s coming, so he can help, too. Then there’s Max and Charlie and a bunch of surfers, everyone will pitch in. I think it might not be a bad idea, Danny; it’s been a rough week.”

“Okay, if you feel up to it, why not? But promise me you won’t do anything stupid like forgetting you had a bullet dug out of your shoulder yesterday.” Steve wafted his sling about.

“I can hardly forget with this on,” he said.

“Seriously? I seem to remember it wasn’t that long ago you had a cast on and that didn’t slow you down.”

“This is different; c’mon, it’ll be fun and besides, I don’t want to have to call and cancel the invitations.”

“Well, that’s just lame,” Danny protested, “but okay, we’ll have the barbecue like you planned. I’ll come over early to help and make sure you don’t end up back in the emergency room because you decided to do something stupid. No, do not open your mouth to protest; this is the voice of experience talking here.” Steve subsided and then his great, goofy grin appeared.

“Thanks, Danno.” Danny rolled his eyes and headed for his car. “Hey, Danny,” Steve called after him, “ask John and Sherlock to come, too.” Danny pulled a face and drove off, leaving Steve standing at his front door, still grinning like an idiot. 

~ 

Danny spotted John on the edge of the crowd around the barbecue and called his name. When John looked around, Danny beckoned him over, watching him as he picked his way through the various chairs, blankets and coolers people had dumped on the beach. When he wasn't overshadowed by Sherlock's looming physical presence, John came into his own. He was better looking than Danny had first thought but his fair English countenance, the whole blue-eyed blond(ish) thing he had going on, was usually overwhelmed by Sherlock's dark curls and brooding beauty. Danny was trying to wrap his head around the idea that John was more than happy to take a back seat and devote himself to caring for Sherlock, especially when Sherlock was so obviously unappreciative. He took John completely for granted, ordered him around like a servant and just expected John to deal with him, his moods, and his personal and professional crises. Danny couldn't understand it at all. The man was a highly qualified doctor, very intelligent (even if not as brilliant as Sherlock) and, as he had proved, was a good man to have on your side in a fight. It had become a matter of utmost importance for him to understand why John did what he did and was the way that he was.

Danny smiled at John and handed him a Longboard from the cooler. John took a long pull and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Ah,” he said appreciatively. “That’s good, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Danny said with a smile. John sat down beside him on the sand, gazing out at the ocean.

“This is a beautiful spot,” he said. “Sherlock and I are very grateful that you and Steve invited us.”

“Steve invited you,” Danny corrected. “I just passed on the message.” It was important to Danny that John did not think he and Steve were anything other than colleagues, which was ridiculous, because the whole point was he wanted Steve to be so much more. John raised an eyebrow. 

“You didn’t want us to come?” he asked. “I thought you had got over your antipathy towards Sherlock.”

“No, I mean yes – no – um, yes I’ve pretty much gotten over hating Sherlock, although I still think he’s an arrogant bastard; and no, I didn’t mean I didn’t want you to come. I just meant this is Steve’s house; he organised the barbecue, not me.” 

“Oh,” John replied with a small shrug, patently not getting the subtle difference Danny was trying to point out. “Okay.” He took another pull at his beer and watched the sunset. Danny picked at the label on his bottle and then said abruptly,

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” John laughed, sounding genuinely amused.

“I think I know what it is, but sure, go ahead.”

“Why do you put up with him, John? He’s horrible to you most of the time and hardly civil the rest.” John smiled.

“It’s complicated,” he answered.

“That’s not an answer.” John turned and looked at Danny.

“Not the one you want, at any rate,” he replied shrewdly. He studied Danny’s face, seeing far more than Danny suspected, and then said, “Why do you want to know?” 

“It’s important to me, John, not idle curiosity. I really want to understand.”

After a long pause, John took a breath and turned his gaze back to the ocean again. 

“I love him,” he said simply. “I would do anything for him. He is the most important thing in my life and, yes, he annoys me and sometimes I want to strangle him but, at the end of the day, there is nowhere I would rather be than with him.” 

Danny was silent for a very long time. This was a subject very close to his heart and maybe John could provide the answer he wanted - no - needed to hear. Perhaps he would learn the trick of loving Steve by finding out how and why John loved Sherlock. By the time he had sorted his thoughts, John had quietly finished his beer and Danny opened another one for each of them before he said,

“Does he know?” John looked a little taken aback.

“Oh, okay, that was not the next question I was expecting. Yes, of course he knows.” Danny mulled this over for a bit.

“What did you think I was going to ask?” John smiled, rather sadly Danny thought.

“Whether my feelings were reciprocated.”

“And they aren’t?” Danny’s voice was very gentle. “Is Sherlock even capable of returning them?” he wondered, and then realised he had spoken the thought aloud. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - I’m not being horrible about him, I just seriously wonder if he can actually appreciate how you feel. He might know but does he care?”

“Sherlock once told me he was married to his work,” John replied. “It is his first and most intense love and nothing and no one, of either gender, has ever distracted him from it. I’ve always known this, Danny, and it doesn’t trouble me. After all, Sherlock doesn’t work all the time.”

“And that’s enough for you?” Danny demanded. John got to his feet and dusted the sand off his shorts.

“Like I said, it’s complicated. Thanks for the beer.” And, with that, he walked away.

Danny watched John leave, his heart twisting inside his chest. He felt immense sadness, not just for John but for himself. There was no magic formula, then; nothing he could do to achieve his heart’s desire. He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Sherlock suddenly appeared and folded his long length to sit down beside him. Sherlock followed the direction of Danny’s eyes and saw John down by the water’s edge, chatting to Kono and Jenna.

“So,” Sherlock said, his voice rumbling softly, as if he didn’t want to be overheard. “You’ve been having a heart to heart with my John, I see.” Suspicious as to why Sherlock had sought him out, and unable to forget their recent confrontation, Danny felt a surge of anger. Here was John Watson, such a good man, in love with this self-centred bastard, who smugly assumed possession without any apparent appreciation of how lucky he was.

“Your John? You don’t own him; he’s a human being, not a possession! Of all the arrogance! He’s far too good for you, you asshole.”

“I know,” Sherlock said calmly. “It is a constant source of wonderment to me that he puts up with me and my - quirks.” His voice had altered, full of – tenderness - and Danny suddenly realised things were not as black and white as he had imagined. His eyes narrowed and he studied Sherlock’s face intently. For once, Sherlock said nothing, just sat and let Danny stare into his eyes, merely raising an eyebrow when the silence grew protracted. Danny could not articulate the thoughts tumbling through his head and finally said,

“John said it was complicated.” Sherlock smiled and Danny registered that he had never seen that particular look on Sherlock’s face before; in fact, he had never seen him smile properly once since they met. It was quite a revelation. His eyes were soft, his whole face open and relaxed, and he looked genuinely happy. Sherlock sighed softly.

“That’s my John,” he said, using that offensive possessive again with a teasing look, daring Danny to protest again. “Always truthful, although I would perhaps have described the situation as complex rather than complicated.” He patted Danny’s knee and got back to his feet. He was about to walk away and then obviously came to a decision. He turned back to Danny and said,

“Would you mind if I offered you some advice?” Danny almost said no but curiosity won out.

“Sure.”

“Your own situation is not nearly as complicated, no matter what you think. If I were you, I would seek out Commander McGarrett before the night is over.” 

Danny just stared, his jaw dropping as Sherlock smiled again and walked away, heading in John’s direction. How the hell did the bastard know? Danny scrambled to his feet, intent on pursuit to demand an explanation, but he stopped when he saw Sherlock slip an arm over John’s shoulder, leaning casually against him as he made Kono laugh with some quip. John looked up at him and smiled and Sherlock’s fingers moved across the nape of his neck in a gentle caress. Danny suddenly saw what had been under his nose all the time. God, he had been blind! He was such a stupid moron! Of course Sherlock loved John. Their relationship was as complex and as strange as Sherlock was himself, but that did not mean it was any less genuine. Just for a second, Danny envied John, and wondered what it must be like, being the focus of all that intensity. He felt a brief frisson trickle down his spine and shook the thought away. It was none of his damn business and, besides, he had more important things to worry about. Spinning around, he searched the area until he spotted Steve. He was alone, standing at the edge of the beach under the fringe of palm trees, staring out at the ocean. The sling on his left arm was a reminder to Danny of just how close he’d come to losing him. He grabbed a couple of beers and walked slowly towards Steve. who heard him coming and turned, smiling at him in a way Danny had never seen before, at least not directed towards him.

“Hi,” Steve said. Danny handed him a beer and turned to stand beside him, facing the ocean.

“It’s a beautiful night,” he said. “I think everyone is enjoying the party; they’re certainly letting loose. Even Sherlock and John are relaxed. It was a great idea, Steve.”

“Always good to celebrate life, especially after the last few days we’ve had. I’m only sorry Rachel and Stan couldn’t make it,” Steve replied. “It would have been great if Gracie could have been here.” Danny shrugged.

“She would have only been able to stay a short while,” Danny said. “It’s not a big deal, I’ve had a lot of time with her recently, and at least the adults can relax and let their hair down without worrying about corrupting my daughter.” Steve laughed.

“Is that what you want to do?” he asked. “Let your hair down?”

“Planning on it,” Danny said with a grin.

“Oh, you have plans?” Steve replied. “Want to share?” Danny looked suspiciously at Steve and a horrible thought crossed his mind.

“Have you been talking to Sherlock?” he demanded.

“Yes, of course I have. What has that got to do with anything?” Steve sounded puzzled.

“About me,” Danny clarified. “Have you been talking to Sherlock about me?”

“Other than apologizing for you, frequently I might add, no, I don’t think your name came up in conversation. Why d’ya ask?”

Danny felt himself blushing and was grateful it was getting dark.

“Nothing,” he said. “Forget it.” Naturally, Steve could not let it go at that.

“I saw you talking to Sherlock a moment ago,” Steve said. “Did my name come up? Is that what’s set you off?” Danny opened his mouth to deny it and, instead, what came out was, 

“Oh, fuck it; shoot me if you don’t like it!” He grabbed Steve by his shirt front, maneuvered him into the clump of trees behind him, backed him up against the nearest one and kissed him. Taken completely by surprise, Steve’s mouth opened beneath his, perhaps due to shock, but Danny took advantage and plundered it until Steve recovered and asserted himself. To Danny’s surprise and delight, he did not push him off and punch him in the face; he cupped Danny’s jaw with his good hand, and tried to pull him closer with his wounded arm. He muffled a grunt of pain and abandoned the attempt, but still managed to kiss him back.

When they finally parted, Danny’s legs gave out. He swore later it was due to lack of oxygen but, truthfully, the immense relief after so much anxiety and stress literally knocked his legs out from under him. Steve caught him as he staggered and eased him down to rest against the tree before sitting down beside him. Danny waited anxiously to see what Steve would do next. He had caught him by surprise and, even though he had responded, that didn’t necessarily mean that he was prepared to go forward with this. He could feel the heat of Steve’s body from shoulder to hip; the man was almost welded to his side. That had to be a good sign. He risked a sideways glance and caught Steve doing the same. Their eyes met and held and Steve smiled rather tentatively.

“So,” he said. Just one word and then he leaned in and kissed Danny again, a soft, slow kiss which made Danny’s eyes flutter shut and his bones melt. When they parted again, Danny smiled.

“So,” he replied. Steve glanced away, looking towards the crowd on the beach and glimpsed the tall, lean figure of Sherlock in the distance. He was gazing in their direction and, as if aware of being observed, he nodded and then turned away. Steve chuckled and Danny laughed with him, not because he knew what was amusing Steve but just because he was so damn happy.

“What’s so funny?” he finally asked. Steve was still laughing but he tilted his head towards where Sherlock had been standing.

“Him,” he said. “You know, your favourite Brit, Sherlock.”

“What about him?”

“I was just thinking he’s not who I expected to play Cupid.” And he was off again, laughing his ridiculous, honking laugh and Danny figured out that Steve was damn happy, too. 

~

Sherlock had observed the little tableau over in the trees and, when Steve kissed Danny for the second time, he gave a satisfied nod and turned away to find John. He saw him down by the water’s edge and went over to join him.

“Are you enjoying the party?” he asked. John grinned up at him.

“Yes, I am. It’s a beautiful spot and they’re nice people.”

“So you wouldn’t want to leave?” Sherlock sounded a little tense.

“Not particularly; why, do you want to go?” Sherlock didn’t reply to the question but said,

“Detective Williams finally had the courage to make his feelings known to Commander McGarrett.”

“He did? So you were right; well, of course you were. And how did Steve react?”

“As predicted: perhaps now Detective Williams will be calmer.” John laughed.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said fondly. “I think you might actually have learned something from this trip.” Sherlock snorted but then conceded,

“I believe I have learned a great deal.” He was silent again and John felt the tension in him.

“You never said, but do you want to leave?” 

Sherlock answered, his voice a deep rumble in John’s ear. “I find myself wishing to be alone with you, John.”

“I’ll go and make our excuses to Steve,” he said quickly.

“Ah, I wouldn’t disturb him if I were you,” Sherlock said with a smile. “Perhaps you might advise Chin or Kono that we are about to depart.” John looked questioningly at Sherlock and then said,

“Oh, right, I get it. Stay there, I won’t be a moment.” He went off in search of Chin, asked him to tell Steve that he and Sherlock were leaving and got him to call for a cab on his mobile. He then returned to Sherlock and said,

“A taxi will be here in about fifteen minutes.” Sherlock nodded.

“Shall we walk?” he murmured and they strolled along the beach in silence, listening to the ocean. The moon was rising, turning the water to silver and John drank in the sight.

“It’s beautiful,” he said softly. Sherlock looked down at him.

“Yes, John, it is a beautiful place and, despite our lack of success in apprehending Moriarty, I cannot regret agreeing to come here.”

“Do you think we can stay a bit longer?” John asked hopefully.

“It is already arranged; we have another week.” 

“A week; that’s fantastic!”

“I thought that would please you,” Sherlock said. “I believe we should make our way to the house. The taxi will be here shortly and, despite the prospect of prolonged free time with you, John, I would prefer not to waste another second.”

They made their way up from the beach and across the lanai to walk around to the front of the house. There was movement in the shadows and John laid a warning hand on Sherlock’s arm. Cautiously, they crept closer to investigate and found Danny and Steve wrapped around each other. Discreetly, they tried to back away without disturbing them but John bumped into a table and Steve and Danny leapt apart.

“What the hell?” Danny exclaimed, staring into the darkness to see who had interrupted them.

“Sorry, sorry,” John said. “We were trying to slip away without disturbing you.”

“You’re leaving?” That was Steve, remarkably unflustered about being caught in flagrante.

“We told Chin to let you know,” John said, a little defensively. Danny stepped closer, looking between the two of them, then he grinned knowingly.

“Hah, I get it!” he said gleefully. “I guess we’re not the only ones wanting a bit of privacy, Steve. I think Sherlock here finally made a few deductions of his own and it’s about time, if you ask me.” Sherlock snorted derisively.

“Just because you have finally achieved your ambition, Danny,” he said sardonically, “does not mean that you are remotely better qualified to give relationship advice.”

“You called me Danny; hey, Steve, did you hear that? Sherlock finally called me Danny. It must be love ‘cos nothing else could make him take his head out of his ass!”

“I believe you are deranged,” Sherlock said. “Steve, I think I should offer you my apologies. I would never have said a word if I had known it would have such unnerving consequences.” Steve laughed.

“Don’t apologise; I should thank you. No, Danny should thank you for making him take his head out of his ass!”

“What was that?” Danny turned on Steve and advanced towards him in a mock threatening manner. Steve held up his good hand to ward him off, grinning widely, and Sherlock closed his eyes and shuddered melodramatically. John cleared his throat.

“The taxi’s here, Sherlock,” he said quietly. Sherlock turned to Steve.

“Good night, Steve,” he said, shaking hands. “Thank you for inviting John and me this evening; I wish you good luck.” He then turned and held out his hand to Danny. For a brief moment, it looked like Danny was going to ignore him. Instead, he grabbed Sherlock’s hand and pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. Sherlock cleared his throat and stepped back, looking poker faced. John was busy saying goodbye to Steve and then he turned to Danny. He reciprocated Danny’s hug and said,

“Good luck, Danny. I think you and Steve will be great together.” Danny grinned, obviously overflowing with happiness.

“Thanks, John,” he said. “Don’t take any crap from wonder boy here; you’re worth ten of him in my book.” 

“I entirely agree,” Sherlock said, much to John’s surprise. “Now, if this excessively sentimental leave taking is finally over, I would very much like to depart. Come along, John, or do you intend to keep me waiting?” John winked at Danny and made haste to follow Sherlock. Steve slipped his arm around Danny’s waist and they watched their visitors disappear around the corner.

“I will never, ever understand what John sees in him,” Danny said. Steve hugged him close.

“What’s to understand?” he asked. “Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?”


End file.
